Lover's Nerve
by Inkblooded Witch
Summary: Alex knows the plans he made four years ago have changed. He's known that for a while. But now it's time to take his altered plan one step further. Normally guts isn't something he lacks, but on this occasion he finds it slipping through his fingers. America/2P America, don't like don't read. Number 3 in my one-shot Lover's series. (4 if you count the lemon on AO3 only.)
**I would like to thank Arctic Fox from Afar for the name suggestions for Alex's kitten. She gave me a lot of really great ideas, and I had a difficult time choosing one. Since Alex went vegan because he's an animal lover, I may or may not add more animals so I can use more of these names :P. (AFFA, I would also like to curse you for unleashing more plot bunnies than I have time for. I already have more than I can handle!) It was very close between Brooklyn and Azreal, I gatta say.**

 **Enjoy!**

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"Wake up! Come on, wake up Al! Smell the waffles and coffee? You need to _get up_."

Very slowly, Alex rolled his head towards his lover, but didn't open his eyes. He was barely awake as it was. "The house on fire?"

"No, but-

"Is something wrong with Brooklyn?"

"No, it's-

"Is something wrong with you?"

"No-

"Then why the _hell_ are you waking me up? It's Sunday, damn it. The one day we get to sleep in, remember?"

"Yeah, but-

"Alfred, I love you, but if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to kill you."

He was a little surprised when Alfred actually listened. He was normally more persistent. But Alex was already starting to doze off again, settling back into his pillow. He was almost out again when something soft brushed against his nose.

Alex forced one eyelid up. He met a pair of bright blue eyes, but they weren't Alfred's. Alfred's pupils were round, not slits. They also weren't set over a pink nose, unless he had a cold. Groggily, he lifted a hand to gently scratch Brooklyn behind one tan ear. She meowed, pawing at his nose.

In a falsetto voice, Alfred said, "Time to get up daddy!"

Alex took a deep breath, reluctantly prying both eyes open and rolling onto his back, taking the kitten from Alfred's hands. She'd grown in the last few months, but she was still pretty small. He set her on his chest, closing his eyes again as he continued to rub the places that made her purr. "Wouldn't that make you the mommy?"

"She can have two daddies. Or I can be papa or something. But that's not the point. The point is you need to get up."

"Can you tell mommy to fuck off please?"

"Don't tell her that! She's not a year old yet, Al!"

"She's older than that in cat years."

"Alex, please? Pretty please?"

Alex groaned. "You're not going away until I get my ass out of bed, are you?"

"Nope," was the cheerful reply.

Reluctantly, Alex sat up, cradling Brooklyn in one arm, absently petting her as he trailed Alfred out of the bedroom. By then he'd noticed the rich smell of coffee and fresh waffles. It wasn't often Alfred made breakfasts, just because of a combination of time and money. They weren't strapped for cash, but when one of them had a black hole for a stomach and the other was a vegan, the grocery bill was higher than most. As a result, things like waffles were reserved for special occasions.

"What's today?" he asked, still groggy as he shuffled into the kitchen, still clad in basketball shorts and an undershirt. Brooklyn wiggled once he crossed onto the kitchen tile, and he bent down to place her on the floor. He ran a hand back through his hair as he straightened, scrubbing at his face. Alex was very sure he hadn't missed Alfred's birthday. It was still June, which also meant it wasn't Christmas, wasn't any other holiday he could think of. So what was it?

"It's June 28th."

Alex slowly sat at the kitchen table, frowning. "You're still not making sense, pork chop. They invent a new holiday overnight?"

Alfred pouted, pouring coffee into two mugs. "I put it on the calendar."

"Alfred."

His lover set one of the mugs down in front of Alex, along with the container of vegan creamer. "It's our anniversary."

Alex frowned. A tingle went down his spine at the word, but he shook it off. He kicked himself for the thousandth time for not having the balls to go through with his plan, even as he struggled to remember just what kind of anniversary Alex would be talking about. "We have an anniversary?"

"Yeah. This is the anniversary of the day I met you."

Slowly, Alex set down the creamer. He stared down at the coffee, watching the cream curl in the dark, steaming liquid. He was still staring as Alfred set a plate stacked with half a dozen waffles in front of him, the top adorned with a hearty swirl of vegan whipped cream and slices of strawberries. His throat tightened a little at that, cherry brown eyes taking in the carefully prepared breakfast.

He knew for a fact that Alfred wasn't any more of a morning person than he was naturally, but he'd gotten better just because he'd had to get up early for classes. Alex knew for a fact that they hadn't had any whipped cream or batter the night before. Alfred had gotten up early enough to make both the cream and the waffles, on a day when he normally slept in along with Alex. Not for the first time, it hit Alex just how much Alfred catered to a very specific diet. Not only did he tolerated it, he supported it, putting in extra time and effort on a very regular basis. He didn't have to, but he did. Always.

"Hey, you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

Alex didn't look up as Alfred joined him at the table, plopping down with a second plate stacked high with waffles and regular whipped cream. He swallowed tightly, fingering the handle of his mug. "Listen, um, what if it was a double anniversary?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just stay there for a sec, alright?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"Alex?"

When Alfred started to stand, Alex pushed him back down. "Just wait, okay babe?"

The blond looked worried, but slowly settled back into his chair. Alex ducked out of the kitchen, now fully awake and fully invigorated. He'd been putting this off for over a month, it was time to man up and follow through with it.

He'd bought it three and a half weeks ago. Just walking into a store like that had been a stretch. He knew what he was, what he looked like, wasn't blind to the way the salesman looked at him. It had only improved marginally when Alex had asked in a gruff, uncomfortable manner about what he was looking for. He wasn't the touchy-feely sort, wasn't used to dealing with things like this, but once he had his purchases in hand, there was a warm feeling in his chest. He'd taken it as a good sign that it was similar, if more intense, to the one he got when dealing with small animals like Brooklyn. A human almost never made him feel like that, even his parents and brothers. That someone who wasn't blood could make him feel like that? It cemented his decision to go through with it.

Alex had had a plan. He'd made it in high school. Most people didn't think of him as a thoughtful person, and he liked it that way, feeling it gave him an edge. This particular plan was long term. He'd worked part time at a local mechanic shop, and they'd promised they could take him on full time after he graduated. He would work there for a few years, however long it took to get enough money to go to college, then he'd go back to part time. He hadn't really thought about the degree he'd go for honestly, maybe business or mechanical engineering, something he'd be decent at and would bring in a bigger paycheck than what he made now. He'd never factored in anything else, family or social life, nothing. His family was alright, but they weren't so close they'd throw a fit if he moved across the country. He'd never had much of a social life, and he liked it that way. No one to weigh him down.

Then, a month after graduating from high school, Oliver had coerced him into coming along to a picnic across town. His cousin had been more or less adopted when they were teenagers, the Brit's parents dying abruptly in a car crash. It wasn't that Alex didn't like Oliver, he usually found the guy tolerable. He just hated social gatherings as a rule, hated cheerful picnics where he probably couldn't eat anything and would have to interact with people. But he also knew that Oliver could and would follow through on his threats of slipping unpleasant drugs into his food for a week. Oliver was just insane enough to manage it and giggle at the results relentlessly.

So Alex had gone, along with Max, against his will. Apparently it was something Oliver's boyfriends family was having, and Arthur had dragged Oliver along to lessen his own misery. Oliver, more social than his brothers and boyfriend combined, had delighted at the opportunity to introduce the two parties. At least Max had been able to plead a job interview and bail after one painful hour. Alex had been forced to stay, envying his brother. The two were close, Max being only a year younger, and despite obvious differences got along well enough. Alex had been banking on having someone to sulk with, hopefully keeping pesky humans at bay. No such luck. He made it about an hour before a guy reminding him of a cheerful golden retriever bounded over, Frisbee and all.

"Hey! You're Oliver's cousin, right?"

Alex had glared down the one inch height difference. Usually someone like him brooding against a large tree would be left alone. Either this guy was oblivious or plain stupid. "What of it?"

"I'm Alfred, Artie's brother. Wanna play? Artie won't, and Mattie say's I'll just hit him in the face."

"No."

"Why not? It's not like you're doing anything over here. You didn't even eat anything."

"Not hungry. Beat it."

Alfred's cheerful demeanor had finally wavered a bit, if briefly. "You need to lighten up, dude. Come on, just throw a few with me? I'm dying of boredom here."

"Then you shouldn't have come. At least you had a choice in the matter."

"You didn't want to come?"

"No."

Finally, something besides a smile. Frowning like a confused puppy, Alfred had asked, "Why?"

"None of your business."

The blond seemed to consider this for a minute. Then he asked, "Did Oliver put you up to it?"

Alex snorted. "More like threatened."

"Oh. Well I'll tell you what, play with me for, say, ten minutes, and I'll get him to let you off the hook."

Arching his eyebrows incredulously. "Seriously? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because I'm that nice. Come on, just ten minutes."

Reluctantly, but desperate to get away, Alex had shrugged off the tree and left the safety of the shadows. Beaming as he led the way to a clear stretch of grass, Alfred asked, "So ya'll have lived here for a while, right?"

"Yeah."

"We just moved here halfway through the school year. Considering Artie didn't get out much, like, ever, it's a miracle he's like this with Oliver. I didn't see you around school, though. You or Max."

"It's a big school."

"So what grade are ya'll in?" asked Alfred, backing up to put some space between them.

"I'm done. Max will be a senior. Just throw the damn thing already."

"I'm not far enough!"

Alex groaned, squinting in the bright sun as Alfred retreated to almost forty feet. Only then did he wind up and send the Frisbee flying. Alex had just enough time to realize why no one wanted to play with him before his reflexes kicked in. He ducked as his hand came up, snatching the flying disk of deadly plastic.

"What the hell?" he called, scowling.

Alfred just laughed. "Throw it back!"

Face twitching slightly, Alex almost walked away. Then his grip tightened. This brat wanted to play rough? Fine.

Shifting his hold on the plastic disk, Alex turned his body to the side, hauled back, and sent the Frisbee flying. It sailed through the air, several feet over Alfred's head. For a minute Alex thought he'd miss it, and he could leave while the blond retrieved it. No such luck.

Alfred sprang straight into the air, arm stretching, snatching the Frisbee as it shot over his head. He landed on the grass with both feet and a wide smile still on his face. Without breaking pace, he sent the Frisbee back towards Alex.

Competition initiated, Alex found himself more focused on the game than on bailing. A first for him in any social event. He didn't even notice they'd drawn a small crowd until Oliver called them over to eat some dessert. Bristling, resisting the urge to flip them off or bit out curses, Alex stalked back to the table his cousin had commandeered. He might pride himself on being the toughest badass around, but even he knew better than to pull shit like that when kids were around.

Alfred bounded after him, face flushed and a little out of breath. "That was great! Come on, tell me you didn't enjoy it. Wait, where you going?"

"Home."

"Don't you want dessert?"

"No."

As he started to pass the table, Oliver called, "But I made the special shortcake."

Alex stopped, glaring at his cousin. "The last time you called it 'special', I was stuck in the bathroom for two hours."

Oliver giggled. "Sorry. Habit. These are clean, Arthur made sure of it."

Alfred's smile finally disappeared. "Wait, Arthur helped make these?" He eyed the shortcake halfway to his mouth. Mathew, who'd already taken a bite, froze, eyes widening.

"I only made sure he didn't spike them," huffed Arthur.

Mathew relaxed. Alfred popped a bite into his mouth. The brothers chewed slowly, thoughtful looks on their faces. Alex's heart sank. Great. Any minute they'd ask, and Oliver would tell...

"It's pretty good, but it doesn't taste like any shortcake we've had before," said Alfred, taking another bite.

Oliver pushed a paper plate towards Alex. "Yes, that's what I meant when I called it special. It's hard to find decent vegan recipes, right enough, but this one's pretty good."

"You vegan?"

Ignoring the warning glower, the clinched fists, Oliver beamed. "No, Alex is. Oh don't make that face, why'd you bother converting if you don't like me saying so?"

"Why would he mind?"

The genuine, innocent curiosity caught Alex by surprise. It wasn't the first time Alfred would surprise him, not for a long shot.

After that, Alfred seemed to be everywhere. Alex tripped over him constantly before he moved into his own small apartment, though he wasn't sure why. As far as he could tell, he wasn't there for Oliver or Max, and he made a dint in their fridge stores. Then he started hanging around the apartment too, poking his head in the garage Alex parked his motorcycle in and asking something along the lines of "What 'cha doing?" Eventually Alex gave up on trying to send him away. For what it was worth, he did seem genuinely interested in the tinkering he did in the garage/workshop. He actually listened whenever Alex grudgingly explained things to him, asking relevant questions, taking everything seriously. Considering he was something of a goofball the rest of the time, it was oddly refreshing.

By the time August rolled around, Alex had built up a tolerance. He didn't even mind Alfred's constant chatter. So when Alfred didn't show up for a whole week, not wandering back into the garage until Saturday afternoon, Alex found himself asking gruffly, "Where ya been, thunder thighs?"

Alfred made a face, plopping down on an upside down milk carton. Despite the fact he could eat everything but his brother's cooking, Alfred wasn't actually fat, just the opposite. Still, Alex liked to tease him about it. He liked the reactions, though he wasn't about to say why. Alfred was too close, he couldn't get away with one of his usual one night stands with someone like him. Even if he did, it sounded like Arthur and Oliver were going to last, which meant he'd be seeing him around even without Alfred's fascination with him.

"School, and football practice. It's the first week, but they really hit the ground running. Who gives homework on the first week?"

Alex snorted, but didn't look up from his work. One of the things he did for extra cash was refurbish run down bikes, tuning them up and polishing them until they would sell for twice what he paid for them. He enjoyed it, it was therapeutic, and he got some extra milk money out of it.

"Get used to it, pork chop. I hear it doesn't get much better."

"Easy for you to say," grumbled Alfred.

Something occurred to Alex as he switched a wrench for a set of pliers. "What grade are you in, kid?"

"I keep telling you I ain't a kid," protested Alfred. "I'm a sophomore."

Slowly, Alex turned from the motorcycle he was working on to Alfred. "You're fifteen?"

"Sixteen," Alfred corrected, absently toying with a Allen wrench. "Why?"

For a minute, Alex just stared at him. Alfred wasn't serious, was he? Then again, Alfred was honest to a fault.

Out of all the things Alfred had talked about, he'd never mentioned his age. Sure he mentioned his birthday, but not his actual age. Alex had only escaped being dragged to the party thanks to the flu. He'd talked about anything and everything else, it seemed, even managed to get Alex to talk back sometimes. The kid was open, too open in his opinion. He'd moved up to the small Connecticut town from Alabama with his parents and two brothers, and in the nine months he'd been here he'd accumulated a number of friends, but for whatever reason he seemed to like Alex best. Sure Alex wasn't blind, and he wasn't picky about gender when it came to who he screwed, but he also made sure they were aware it wasn't a permanent thing. Usually it was just a one night stand, and they never came to his place.

But this? A sixteen year old kid? No. No way. He was eighteen, it mattered now. As much as Alex hated to admit it, he'd gotten used to having Alfred around, even liked him. He'd even started seeing the appeal, thinking the golden boy would be fun to roll through the sheets. To break that bright eyed, perfect image and reduce him to a writhing and moaning mess, to kiss him breathless and screw him until he forgot his own name.

Alex shook his head sharply, hand tightening on the pliers. _No, damn it, he's a fucking kid. You're a lot of things, but you don't screw with kids._

"Get out."

Alfred looked up, a surprised expression on his face. "Huh?"

The order had been growled more than spoken. Alex didn't look at Alfred, instead repeating it in a louder voice. "Get out!"

"Why? What did I-

"Now."

"Alex, what-

Alex stood, turning as he hurled the pliers across the room. Alfred flinched, though they missed him by more than a foot, clattering onto the work table. He stared at Alex, eyes wide.

"Get. Out. Now."

Alfred hesitated, then ran. Alex watched him go, ignoring it when his chest tightened uncomfortably. He turned back to his work, trying to push Alfred to the back of his mind. Why should it even matter? None of the others ever had.

About an hour after this Arthur had shown up, arms folded and impressive brows narrowed. "You had better provide a damn good explanation, lad."

"Explanation for what? I haven't seen you in what, two weeks?" asked Alex, twisting the nuts off the back tire.

"Alfred. You've...done something."

Alex made a face. "What, he gets upset about something and runs right to you?"

"No. You might have noticed he's quite social. When he's upset he cuts himself off. He's currently hiding in his room and didn't even come out at the offer of food. This usually means it's serious. Don't think I didn't know how much time he was spending over here, Alex. Now, explain yourself."

"What makes you think I did something, brows?"

Arthur continued to glare at him.

Alex sighed, straightening. Tossing aside the wrench, he folded his arms, glaring right back at the Brit. "You knew what he was doing? Then you should know what happened. I'm eighteen, he's sixteen. What good is his being here if nothing is going to happen?"

The glare was morphing into a baffled frown. "What does that have to do with it?"

"Even if you don't care, there are plenty of people just itching to blow the whistle at the least little thing. A lot of 'em don't like me very much. Do I like him? Yeah. Can we do anything? No. So what's the point?"

The baffled frown was now changing to an annoyed scowl. "That's it? Did it occur to you that perhaps you could have a relationship that didn't involve shagging? He adores you, though why I haven't the foggiest. Why else would he spend so much time around someone like you?"

"I spent a lot of time around Oliver in these last five years. My sanity radar is pretty skewed."

"So you think someone would have to be insane to actually like you?"

Alex gritted his teeth. He straightened, putting himself at half a foot taller than Arthur. "What do you think? Look at me."

The green eyed man sighed, as if dealing with a stubborn child. "Sadly, I am. You're not my type, but apparently you're Alfred's. Now either you can stay here and sulk while you wait for Mathew to catch wind of this, which he will. Or you can go and apologize and attempt to make this right."

"Mathew?" repeated Alex, a little baffled. Out of all Alfred's family members, Mathew was the one he least considered to be a threat.

"Alfred is his twin brother. He probably already knows something's wrong. He might be docile but he does have Alfred's strength." He paused, then mused, "I suppose you haven't seen him in hockey season, though."

"So you think Mathew is going to kick my ass?" asked Alex incredulously.

"No. Mathew is going to slaughter your ass. Then I will cheerfully make your life a living hell for as long as it suits me." Smiling sweetly, in a way that was eerily similar to Oliver, the Brit added, "It's not often Alfred sheds tears. We don't take kindly to people who push him that far."

With that, Arthur turned and walked away, leaving Alex alone in the garage once more.

It had taken a little while, longer than Alex liked to think about, but he had eventually found himself staring at a door plastered with various superhero posters. He listened, but he hadn't heard anything. Half hoping Alfred was asleep or not there at all, he lifted a hand to knock on the paper-covered wood.

A subdued voice called, "Go away, Artie. I said I'm fine."

"You don't sound like it, pork chop."

There was silence for a minute, then, "What are you doing here?"

Alex sighed. "Just open the damn door."

"Don't wanna."

Scowling, Alex had tried the handle anyway. It turned easily, and he threw it open, stepping inside Alfred's bedroom. He shut the door on his heels, twisting the handle lock. When he glanced around, he found Alfred sitting on the floor under his desk, knees under his chin, a Spiderman blanket draped over him.

"What are you doing under there?" Alex asked tiredly.

"Nothing. Go away."

"No."

"Why not?"

Alex wandered closing, peering into the shadows. His chest tightened a little when he found Alfred had indeed been crying. Grimacing, he came around to sit with his back to the nearest bedpost, putting him only a few feet away from the desk and where he could see Alfred's face.

Once positioned, he said, "Because I screwed up, and I need to set things straight."

"You know if you'd hated me why didn't you tell me sooner? You never have a problem saying anything else."

"I don't hate you, thunder thighs."

"Then why did you yell at me and throw pliers at me? Was it something I said? Did I do something?"

Alex ran a hand back through his hair. Damn it, this is why he disliked interacting with people. Cute animals and sensible machines made so much more sense. "No. Well, yes. It's more like what you didn't tell me. Look, I like you, and apparently you like me, but you're sixteen."

"So?"

"So, I'm eighteen," protested Alex. "I'm not...I can't do anything with you without someone blowing a whistle. Don't get me wrong, I want to, but I can't."

Alfred pushed the blanket off his head, frowning. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I can't touch you, that's what," snapped Alex. "Not in good conscious."

"Why not?"

"Because compared to me you're a kid, alright? At least in the eyes of the law you are. Damn it, Alfred, just because I want you doesn't mean-

"You like me too?"

Alex hesitated. He looked like a hopeful puppy, staring intently out from under the desk like that. Maybe that was part of his draw, the innocence this golden boy seemed to embody, the goodness.

"I...yeah. That's the problem. Legally speaking, you're a kid, I'm an adult. I don't know why, but it is. I can't-

"That's it? You like me but just because you're eighteen and I'm sixteen-

"That's exactly it," snapped Alex.

"So? My parents are four years apart, yours are five. It doesn't matter."

"It does if one of us is under eighteen and the other isn't," Alex fired back.

"Okay, so what if we wait? Or we just don't do anything," protested, Alfred, jerking off his glasses to clean them on the blanket.

"Two years is a long time, thunder thighs," Alex warned, face grim.

"Why do you call me that?" the blond demanded, stuffing the glasses back onto his nose. "Or pork chop or whatever? Why? I mean it's better than bitch or bastard or whatever else you call people, but still. Why?"

Alex opened his mouth, but hesitated. That much was true, though he hadn't thought about it before. Even his family wasn't immune, Oliver bearing the nickname psycho bitch while Max got punk ass. Though it had to be said his brother called him dick face in return, giving as good as he got whatever Alex threw at him. Unless kids were around, no one got away with tamer names, or anything remotely similar to what he called Alfred.

"I don't...I don't know," he said at last, tipping his head back against the bed post, closing his eyes. "You're fucking confusing, you know that? I mean seriously. Things were a lot less confusing before you showed up, babe."

"Wait, what?"

Alex cringed at the slip, but set his jaw, jamming both hands back through his hair as his head fell forward. "You heard me," he growled.

There was a quiet scuffle, then Alfred was trying to drag his face up, pulling his hands away. "Come on, Al, look at me. I know you're not good with the whole talking thing but you can at least try."

For a minute, he just stared at Alfred, face hopeful, blue eyes wide and intent. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Oh fuck it," he muttered.

Before Alfred had time to do more than look confused, Alex shoved him back, dumping him onto his back and bending over him. One hand fisted in his blond hair as he attacked his mouth, earning a startled squeak. It took a minute, not surprising considering Alfred had more or less been tackled to the floor, but then his eyes fluttered shut, his body relaxing beneath the other man, going limp in his hold and eagerly returning the rough kiss.

Morally, it wasn't Alex's proudest moment. He'd taken Alfred's virginity right then and there on the bedroom floor, then hauled him up onto the mussed bed for round two. He'd had a lot of people over the last several years, male and female, but he could honestly say none were quite like Alfred. He'd never met someone he wanted to savor before, wanted to take care of. It wasn't just about getting off, getting his own climax. He wanted to hear Alfred, wanted to make him whimper and moan and scream, wanted to see the look on his face as a massive orgasm took him.

One thing he hadn't counted on was just how fulfilling it was, to actively put his lover's pleasure before his own, to feel the rush of satisfaction as Alfred's hands literally trembled as they clung to him. Not only that, it was exhausting. He'd watched Alfred slip under after the second racking orgasm, had tugged the blanket over him and settled next to the teen. Alex settled next to him, idly combing his fingers though honey blond hair, just watching him.

Then he blinked, and it was the other way around. He was still on his back on Alfred's bed, but it was Alfred who was apparently awake. It had gotten dimmer in the room, like the sun was going down. Alfred was propped on his elbows, tracing the oldest of Alex's tattoo's. He had six in total, scattered over his body. A tribal band around one upper bicep, sweeping marks spreading over the other arm and shoulder. A dragon, also tribal, was etched into the inside of his left forearm, a descending eagle with wings outstretched over his left shoulder blade, a Celtic triskelion at the base of his neck, atop his spine. His first tattoo, a radioactive symbol on his left pectoral, was the one currently receiving Alfred's attention.

Apparently aware Alex had woken, Alfred just asked absently, "A radioactive heart?"

"What?" asked Alex groggily.

"That's your problem. You think you have a radioactive heart. You don't."

"Stick around long enough, babe," he said, closing his eyes again. "What time is it?"

"Supper time. Wanna stick around?"

"No. Need to leave."

Alex opened his eyes as he sat up, so he didn't miss it when Alfred pouted. He chuckled, tangling a hand in his hair and pulling him in for a lazy kiss. "You'll see me tomorrow, thunder thighs."

And he did. Alfred's visits became more sporadic, between school and football and Alex's job, but they managed. Time rolled on, and while Alex hadn't had high hopes for Alfred's secret keeping abilities, he did a pretty good job about this one.

Alex had still felt a little uneasy, but not enough to stop. He took it as a good sign that Alfred's brothers knew, and he never woke up with body parts missing. Was it all sunshine and rainbows? Never. Did they make it work? Definitely. Was it worth it? Every minute. When Alfred graduated, two years later, Alex was there to watch him walk across the stage. The same week he turned eighteen, they moved into an apartment slightly bigger than the one Alex had had previously.

That was two years ago. Almost four years after he'd met Alfred. Four years.

Alex swallowed tightly, jerking open the top drawer of his dresser. He rummaged through the back, unearthing the box tucked under the unused dress socks. Four years, and he still didn't have the guts to do this. Why shouldn't he? He was no coward, and he couldn't remember the last time he wanted something this much.

Slowly, Alex made his way back into the kitchen, clutching the box tightly. Alfred was still waiting, perched worriedly on the edge of the chair. Alex cursed himself for not meeting his eyes, just setting the box in front of him and dropping back into his seat.

"Open it," he said gruffly.

Alfred hesitated, then picked up the box. He tugged off the lid, peeking inside. His face went slack, and he slowly set the lid aside, staring at the contents of the box. Alex waited anxiously, fighting the urge to shift in his seat. This wasn't good, Alfred was never this quiet. He was going to say no, wasn't he? He really was. Why had he even tried? Alfred would never-

The air was crushed from Alex's lungs, and he wheezed a surprised grunt as Alfred almost tackled him from his chair. He flailed, then slowly put his arms around the blond, a little unsure. The younger man still wasn't talking.

Then Alfred pulled back just enough to look at him. Alex was startled to see the tears in his eyes and the wide smile that could easily outshine the sun. "You mean it? You really mean it?" Alfred asked, pure joy in his voice.

Alex swallowed tightly. "Yeah. Why else would I get those things?"

Alfred hugged him all over again, though at least this time Alex could brace for impact. A smile tugged at his face, one arm going around Alfred's shoulders as the other hand brushed his hair. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

"Yes, definitely a yes."

Normally, Alex didn't wear jewelry aside from his piercings. Even then he usually wore studs, simple and not very flashy, nothing that got in the way or might cause problems in a mechanics shop. But for this he'd decided to make an exception. In the box rested two simple, silver rings. One for him. One for Alfred. The shop owner had tried to push the fancier, jewel-laden rings, but Alex hadn't gone near them. Just getting these had been a stretch for him. Besides, he sure as hell wasn't going to wear one of those things, and he doubted Alfred would. He seemed happy enough with what was in the box already, anyway. That said, Alex was aware of what his lover put up with on a daily basis for him. If Alfred wanted more, he wouldn't hesitate.

"Listen, um, if you want something different we can-

"Are you kidding? They're perfect. Which one's mine?"

Alfred scooted his chair closer, eyes still a little damp as Alex pulled the box over. He took the ring that was slightly smaller, then reached for Alfred's hand. At first he started to offer it, but then yanked it away.

"Aren't we supposed to sign something or say something in front of a priest first?" asked Alfred, frowning.

Alex frowned. "Sign something, I guess. But I was kind of hoping we could skip the ceremony bit."

Alfred pouted a little, then asked, "What if we just ask a few people to come with us and we get a justice of the peace to do it? And we can go out after? A tiny, intimate ceremony?"

He really shouldn't have looked Alfred in the eye. He knew better. There were puppies with faces that didn't match up.

"Fine. Then can I put this on you?"

Alfred laughed, then leaned over to peck him on the lips. "As long as you let me return the favor."

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